March 31, 2004

Clearly from the photo above, you can tell that I didn't have to survive on mere nibbles in the Big Easy. Dieting was completely out of the question. I made a few futile attempts to workout at my hotel's gym, but it was ultimately a losing battle. There was no way in heck I was going to get to feel virtuous on this vacation. New Orleans is about decadence, decadence and more decadence.

Who am I to argue with tradition?

So, the whirlwind of dining, drinking, dining, drinking and more dining and drinking began. Frankly, I could go on and on about all the gourmet delights I indulged in, but I think you would overload in the reading, almost as much as I did in the eating.

Suffice to say, I most certainly experienced a muffuletta or two, downed my fair share of fried food, including a "Peace-Maker" Po-Boy sporting a half-n-half combo of fried oysters and fried shrimp with Tabasco-infused mayo, had a Sazerac at the Sazerac, and even visited a French Quarter Creole Kosher restaurant featuring Persian cuisine (?) for good measure. But, there were four meals that were particular standouts and deserve a bit of special attention...

It was difficult narrowing the field of restaurant choices to a handful we could manage, but after seeing Rachel Ray feasting on Chef Frank Brigtsen's updated Creole/Acadian fare on the Food Network, my traveling companions Laurel and Amy were quick to insist on a stop at Brigtsen's in the Riverbend area. No arm twisting was necessary. The restaurant is legendary for Brigtsen's brilliant riffs on Southern Louisiana cuisine. And, besides, how can a James Beard winner fail to deliver?

It was the first dinner of the vacation and we quickly realized that it was an ideal choice. For a lauded restaurant, I was immediately impressed by the dining room's blend of genteel elegance and downhome hospitality. The food struck the same delicate balance. It was a wonderful introduction to the city's inherent recipe of Southern refinement combined with Creole joie de vivre.

I was given a "good girl!" nod from the restaurant's hostess, when I mentioned that I was definitely ordering an appetizer of Rabbit Tenderloin on an Andouille Parmesan Grits Cake with Spinach & Creole Mustard Sauce. Although I didn't get much Andouille bite out of the dish, the perfectly cooked, crispy-coated rabbit was generously doused in the spicy, creamy mustard sauce. Mmm. I was in N'awlins alright.

My entree was equally homespun, with a confidence and style that took the dish into the realm of the gourmand: Roast Duck with Cornbread Dressing & Honey Pecan Gravy. I must admit that I was debating the wisdom of my choice when I saw Laurel's main dish: Brigtsen's Seafood Platter (pictured above), featuring Grilled Drum Fish with Shrimp & Corn Macque Choux Sauce, Crabmeat Thermidor, Baked Oyster Rockefeller, Baked Oyster with Bacon & Leeks, Deviled Crab and Eggplant Caponata. Luckily, she was happy to share a few tastes. Brigtsen clearly knows his way around the Bayou waters. Delicious.

Laurel and Amy were out for the count at this point, but I felt obliged to push on and ordered a Southern standard: Pecan Pie. Molasses sweet, lovingly-crafted and surrounded by a pool of lip-smacking caramel sauce, it was the most graceful slice of the pecan-variety that I'd ever eaten. Ya-Ya!!!

The next day, I had insisted that we partake in a New Orleans ritual: Friday lunch. We decided to skip Galatoire's, the city's most revered, old-line dining haunt for local politicos and swells, and try a New American-French twist on the tradition at Peristyle (bar/entrance pictured above). Considering that this sophisticated French Quarter haven only opens its doors for lunch on Friday, offering a different 3-course $24 prix-fixe every week, reservations had been rumored to be very hard to come by. I felt triumphant snagging a table for three at 1pm.

Entering the airy main dining room, it was obvious that this Big Easy practice usually starts well before 1pm. A large boisterous table of locals already had a dozen or so empty bottles of wine forming a centerpiece in the middle of their table.

We clearly had some catching up to do.

In honor of the Tennessee Williams Festival that was going on that weekend, Peristyle's Chef Anne Kearny cooked up a menu paying homage to the playwright's works. My epicurean tour through Williams' country: A cold plate of marinated vegetables, a chickpea salad and dollop of herbed goat cheese, christened "Stanley's Plate," inspired by "A Streetcar Desire," followed by a rich, fragrant Shrimp & Oyster Gumbo from "Vieux Carre."

Dessert was heaven on a plate: Angel Food Cake with White Icing and Frosted Grapes, taken from "27 Wagons Full of Cotton." I can't help moaning when I think about that icing - ivory white, buttery, sugary, vanilla goodness. The red grapes dipped in crystallized sugar set it off brilliantly. Oh, and the cake wasn't half bad too.

Feeling like we needed to get a bit more local flavor - literally and figuratively - after that polished, graceful lunch we took a sharp turn for dinner - straight to Pascal's Manale. An authentic Italian-Creole joint, Manale is famous for creating BBQ Shrimp (pictured above) - a dish that contains plenty of plump, fresh Louisiana shrimp, but has never known the thrill of a grill. Put innocent shrimp over fire-licking coals? That would be sacrilege! This rollicking hot spot, crammed with sports memorabilia, beer, freshly shucked oysters and ultra-fattening, old-time fare wouldn't spoil something as beautiful as Bayou shrimp by putting it on a barbeque. Much better to drown it in good, old-fashioned spiced butter - mounds of it - and serve it with a hunk of French bread for dipping.

Damned, if they're not right!

We waited a full 24-hours before taking on another truly gourmet experience. (Not that it gave enough time for our arteries to unclog, mind you. But, we can dream.)

Last time I was in New Orleans, about 6 years ago, I had the pleasure of dining at Chef Susan Spicer's award-winning Bayona, an intimate retreat from the bustling French Quarter that sets you at ease the second you walk through its doors. The food, if my memory serves me correctly, was superb. Spicer spotlighted local, farm-raised ingredients in dishes that captured flavors from across the globe. The service had been impeccable.

I was tempted to make a reservation as soon as I booked my airplane ticket, but something held me back. I should try something new - or at least new to me. One step into Spicer's fairly new, upscale Warehouse District cafe, Herbsaint (pictured above), and I realized that "new" was a good way to go. A very good way to go.

The room was effortlessly charming, with a large photo of an old-time jazz band covering the back wall to remind patrons that they were in New Orleans - if the clanking of the passing St. Charles Streetcar wasn't indication enough. All three of us were delighted with our table which faced the kitchen, so we could see Spicer's former Bayona Sous Chef Donald Link in action.

The menu was equally enticing. As with Spicer at Bayona, Link is fiercly committed to showcasing local foodstuffs. His style, however, is focused on leveraging French technique to create a modern spin on Louisiana cookery. We didn't know where to begin.

Thank goodness for John.

John - Laurel, Amy and I quickly determined - is a god among waiters. He was amazingly knowledgeable about food and wine and had an infectious enthusiasm for Herbsaint and the fine dining experience. And, it didn't hurt that he was terribly cute too.

He quickly convinced us that a four-course dinner was the only way to go. We weren't a tough sell.

I started off with a special of Duck and Tasso Ham Gumbo, featuring a spicy broth, kernels of rice, julienned scallion and bits of tender, smoked and buttery meats that, combined, tasted like the Big Easy served up in a bowl.

Next, we all shared a few small plates that were big on flavor, including a dish of Shrimp and Green Chile Grits Cakes with Tasso Cream Sauce, which made my eyes roll back into my head with pleasure, and a lusty Beef Short Rib on Potato Cake with Dijon-Horseradish Dressing.

For an entree, I settled on a house specialty that took me in the direction of Gascony, rather than the Bayou: Muscovy Duck Leg Confit with Dirty Rice and Citrus Gastrique. It was unsettlingly divine. I think I'm spoiled for Confit for the rest of my life.

Laurel and Amy were similarly enthralled with their main dishes: a special preparation of Halibut and Rabbit Fricasee with Homemade Pappardelle and Wild Mushrooms, respectively.

John returned and resolutely insisted that we order dessert. John had yet to steer us wrong. How could we fail to listen to him now?

While perusing the options, he easily convinced me to order a glass of soft, honey Muscat - a vintage bottle that had been opened accidentally and was being offered by the glass until the bottle ran dry. It must have been fate. There was one glass left. We all took sips of the rare treat while waiting for dessert.

In all of the other restaurants we visited during our stay, we ordered a single dessert to share. John would have none of that tonight - even letting Amy know that her original selection of Meyer Lemon Cr

March 30, 2004

Only have a few minutes to spare before I have to meet a pal and share my tales of the Big Easy over a drink or two at the Waterfront Ale House. But, I think it would be downright rude of me not to share a few tidbits about my trip. So, with what time I have, I think I'll riff - jazz style - with a pastiche of memorable moments from my holiday, leaving the major foodie reviews and revelations for tomorrow.

Some scenes worth recalling...

*Sipping a cool, slightly spicy Pimm's Cup on the grand balcony of the Garden District's historic Column's Hotel, watching the St. Charles Streetcar go by in the warm afternoon sun.

*Catching the flash of a Cheshire cat smile from trumpet impressario Maurice Brown after he finishes an electrifying solo during a performance at the legendary Snug Harbor.

*Zig-zagging through the dizzying array of bric-a-brac and fine antique jewelry on display at the historic collectible shops that line the French Quarter's Royal Street.

*Biting into a tart, juicy loquat offered by a loquacious Southern gentleman who plucked the fruit from a tree in front of the charming Cornstalk Fence Hotel (pictured above).

*Having a so-so cup of Joe and an even more so-so croissant in an attractive, non-descript coffee house-cum-bar at fringy Decatur and Barracks. Slowly slurping the hot brew, speaking with the sole counterperson about the trials and tribulations of serving tourists, a new explosion of construction in the Quarter and the web of corruption that is practically an institution with New Orleans' attorneys, law enforcement and government officials.

*The site of a little boy attempting a full-on Marlon Brando impersonation during the "Stella!" shouting contest in Jackson Square - truly a theatrical highlight of the Tennessee Williams Festival.

*A delightful cab driver who, at a ripe 73, was kind enough to share his pointed thoughts on marriage, while lovingly sharing a few snippets about his own. Before I left the car, we passed by the New Orleans branch of Hooters. He admitted that since his wife passed 12 years back, he had darkened its door a few times, sagely noting that "no one gets arrested for eye balling."

March 29, 2004

One of the great un- or under-told restaurant stories of New York of recent years is the renaissance of Chinatown in the wake of 9/11, after the terrorist attacks just about killed the place. But these days, whenever I take a walk there, I see new restaurants everywhere. And it

March 24, 2004

Tomorrow I hit the road for a vacation in the Big Easy. I'm hoping to squeeze in a couple of restaurant stops in-between the Garden District house tour, relaxing by the pool and jazz. We'll see...

But, that does present me with a problem: three workdays with no VittlesVamp posts.

Thankfully, my gourmet-prowling buddy Copyboy has agreed to step in as a guest blogger. I'm thinking that opining about food will be a bit of a stretch from writing about the stiffs he usually covers, but I'm hopeful nonetheless.

You'll have to let me know, if I was a fool to give up the reigns. I'm keeping my fingers crossed...And, I promise to be back on Tuesday!

The West Village is filled with an overabundance of quaint bistros and cafes. Some are very good. Some aren't.

But, there is still something purely magical in the discovery of an authentic gustatory jewel box in this charming neighborhood. Last night, I was lucky enough to enter such a place - small, unassuming and utterly enchanting: Le Gigot.

Located at 18 Cornelia Street, the restaurant shares the block with some venerable Village dining establishments, including Pearl Oyster Bar, Home and Po. (Tough competition to say the least.) Le Gigot has been on the block for eight years now, but except for a flurry of press when it opened its doors to lines of Francophiles, there hasn't been much buzz about the place. So little, in fact, that when I was in the area, I usually bypassed the spot in favor of one of its gourmet neighbors.

That all changed last night.

I promised to take my friend Maureen out for a birthday dinner and asked her to indicate her "hankering" du jour. Her selection: French fare - and somewhere neither of us had been before. And, so a reservation at Le Gigot was born...

Walking into the adorable, Provencal yellow bistro that evening I was greeted by the delightful sight of a tiny, 35-seat room lined with banquettes, white linen-set tables and a wall of honeycomb-inspired mirror. The room was lit in low golden hues and a subtle smell of garlic hung in the air. I felt like I had found the perfect, hidden cafe - in Paris.

Sipping a glass of crisp Pinot Blanc, Mo and I reviewed the dinner options. We finally decided to split two appetizers and an entree. The waiter approved of our choices and made the recommendation that he bring each dish out separately, if that would be okay. It was.

Several moments later a large platter of charcuterie appeared in the center of the table. The waiter explained that all of it had been prepared in-house and walked away with a knowing smile on his face. One bite of the Chicken Liver Pate and I had that same smile on mine. It was delectable. The Duck Rillette, Country Pate and sausages were equally amazing. The surrounding accompaniments of cornichon, slivers of cooked carrot and yellow beets, caper berries and pearl onions put it all over the edge. Maureen and I didn't even touch the bread that came with - It might have muddled the purity of the flavors.

Next came an appetizer special of Crabcake. I am often disappointed in this dish. In careless hands it usually ends up tasting like Breadcrumbcake. There are no careless hands in Le Gigot's kitchen. It was heaven.

And, alongside there was mesclun. Who cares about a few paltry greens, you ask? Honey, you haven't tried these greens! The vinaigrette drizzled atop was breathtaking. It was so good, it was driving me crazy. Where did that hit of sweetness come from? What vinegar did the chef use? I had to know!

I called over the waiter, who gladly shared the chef's secret: He boils dried figs in balsamic vinegar, reducing the liquid and then strains out the figs. All that's added is olive oil and a touch of lemon juice.

Of course, I'm now planning to try it at home. And, unlike the folks at Le Gigot, I vow to find a use for the balsamic-poached figs. (Perhaps with pork loin or duck?)

Mo and I were on pins and needles at this point. Was it possible they could keep the food coming at this level? Of course not.

They topped it.

The main dish we shared was Lamb Shank - the richest, most vibrant lamb shank I've ever consumed. The sauce was a deep brown puddle infused with meaty stock and a glossing of anise-flavored Pernod. Brilliant. Beneath the meat was a melange of crisp, colorful vegetables, including sugar snap peas and cauliflower. But, the crowning glory side dish was the slices of potato cooked in duck fat. Certainly not dietetic - but gorgeous all the same.

We were over the moon. And, once you're caught between the moon and New York City, you have no choice: but to order dessert.

The Apple Tart Tartine and Brioche Pudding with Pear, Banana and Peach were the only nightcaps we needed...

I must admit, I'm a little nervous about posting this review - and a bit thankful that my site is still sort of under-the-radar. Why? Cause, goodness knows, I want to be able to get a table at Le Gigot again - very, very soon.

March 23, 2004

My Mom has saved oodles of photos from when I was an adorable tot. Of course, each one holds a special memory, but there are two that are real standouts in my book: The first is a photo of me with a wide grin sitting in my Baby Butler chair holding a Devil Dog. The second shot is me again, moments later, still with the wide grin and the Devil Dog smeared everywhere - except my mouth.

I try to avoid that particular eating technique (or lack thereof) these days. Then again, I was probably about as young as the little one pictured above, so dining etiquette wasn't yet a strong suit.

And frankly, unsurprisingly, I took to restaurant dining at a very early age - like a rubber ducky to water, so to speak. I particularly loved a Chinese restaurant near my house, where they would give me a sparkler in my sherbet on my b-day. Needless to say, I had my birthday at least five times a year. Mom was pretty serious when it came to table manners and I knew that if I wanted to be taken on culinary adventures - and enjoy a few more sparklers - abiding by her guidance was mandatory.

So, when I heard that Danny Meyer's Eleven Madison Park was sponsoring an "Elementary Dining" course for kids on March 27th, I couldn't help but smile at the idea of a new generation learning the ABC's of restaurant decorum, gaining their epicurean stripes - and a few sparklers of their own.